Crosswords
by xbechloex
Summary: Yep, that's it. Crosswords are impossible. They were just created to make everyone's life a living hell.


"Hey Babe?"

"Hm?"

"What's a five letter word for 'vital vessel'?"

"Aorta"

"Wow. Look at you Miss Medical Know-it-All. Not even missing a beat."

Comfortable silence settled over the pair once again. The only sounds that filled it was the soothing tapping of a keyboard and the occasional rustling of a newspaper.

"Babe?" A confused voice questioned after a few minutes of silence.

"Yeah?" The distracted voice inquired monotonously, knowing the gist of the next question by now.

"What's a four letter word for 'undertaking'?"

A very brief silence followed, the steady tapping only missing a half-beat before it resumed along with an answer.

"Task."

A confused hum came from a brunette who was sitting on her bed, newspaper in hand and a large pair of reading glasses snug on her face. She flipped the paper to find the answer key to check if it was, in fact, the correct answer. A baffled 'what?' softly escaped her mouth when she found that it was. Shaking her head in disbelief of the redhead currently sitting at her desk, typing a paper due tomorrow, she flipped the paper back to the original page. One frustrated sigh later, she spoke up again.

"Babe?"

"Hm?"

"What's a three letter word for 'Hospital Trauma Center'?"

For the first time that afternoon, the redhead stopped looking at the screen in front of her. She turned her head slightly to the side, hands still poised perfectly of the keyboard, giving the frustrated brunette a look that screamed 'Are you serious?'.

"It should be ER, but that's fucking _two _letters!" She cried, exasperatedly. "What the hell is another name for ER with three?!"

They stared at each other for a moment before the brunette practically screeched, "There are fucking _plural _nouns in this?! What the absolute _fuck_ do these people think they're _doing_?!

This caused an amused smile to overtake the redhead's freckled face before she shook her head and continued to work. Her smile stayed plastered on her face, and possibly grew larger, when she heard the angry brunette mumbling about 'old men probably laughing their asses off as they write this' and how they 'probably just did this to watch her suffer'.

This wasn't the first time Beca and Chloe were like this: sitting in comfortable silence as Chloe worked and Beca attempted puzzles. Usually, though, she would only be doing Sudoku or a 'Cryptoquip', which were hardly e_ver _funny, by the way. This was the first, and most likely last, time she has ever attemted to do a crossword puzzle on her own.

And by 'on her own', I mean 'asking Chloe and wondering how the fuck she got it right.'

"….Babe?"

"Becs?" An amused smirk played on the older woman's face as she countered. A brief pointed look from the smaller woman in response caused her to purse her lips to hide her smile.

"What's a fifteen letter word for 'encore elicitor'?"

There were no pauses in typing this time. The only sign that told Beca that her girlfriend- _God _it feels so nice to say that, even after four months of dating- had heard her was the amused smile that had never left her face growing ever-so-slightly bigger and a small shake of her head. She knew what was about to happen.

"Round of Applause."

"What the actual _fuck_?! That is three _fucking _words, Chloe, who do they think they are?!" Needless to say, Beca flipped. She crumbled the paper as much as she could before throwing it across the room, and crossed her arms indignantly. She gave up, it was useless. Crosswords were just _created _to make everyone's life a living hell.

The redhead glanced at Beca, attempting to assess the state of her girlfriend. Quickly, she did a double take and stopped typing at the sight before her.

"Are you*_pouting, _Mitchell?"

"No.."

"You are! Aww, baby, it's okay, the mean old guys aren't gonna hurt you."

"I'm not pouting!"

A staring contest between two shades of blue quickly began. One had an amused glint in it as the other held an indignant retort. Finally, after a few seconds of competition, Beca broke her gaze.

"Okay, fine, maybe I was pouting!" she caved, throwing her hand in the air exasperatedly. "But tell anyone, Beale, and I'll have to hire assassins to kill you."

"Why not kill me yourself?"

"I don't wanna be pinned for murder, duh." she deadpanned.

"Ah, yes, how stupid of me." She knocked her forehead with the heel of her palm.

Chloe quickly went back to work, explaining how Tchaikovsky had influenced today's music through an eight-page research paper. Thankfully, she has an a_mazing _girlfriend that happens to own a fantastic laptop for her use.

_Wait-Why does she have to use Beca's laptop?_ you may ask. Well, about two weeks ago, the first time the couple were in this position, Chloe had to write a different research paper for a Pre-Med class. In which she had to research that day. And write that day. And turn in the next day. And receive an A on or else she would have to complete the end-of-term project for that semester.

It's not at she procrastinated, no; she had done all her research throughout the week and was typing it the day before, actually. It was going smoothly, too, but, she guessed, it was going way _too _smoothly-or should I say- smooth_ie._

Yes, her laptop decided that it was going to finally taste what all the hype was about when it came to Mr. Freezies Frozen Delights, the new parlor that had opened near campus over the summer, and, damnit, it would die trying. Tragically, when the ship went down, so did all of the files within it. Needless to say, she pulled the puppy dog eyes as soon as her abso_lutely_ _wonderful _girlfriend opened the door to her dorm.

"Chloe…" her girlfriend's whining brought her attention back to the present.

"Hm?"

"I'm boooored." Chloe smirked.

"You could do your Music History paper?"

"Nah, I did that a while ago."

Yet again, Chloe halted her typing. Her eyebrows flew to her hairline, blue eyes full of a mixture of disbelief, surprise, and pride.

"Really?"

Beca gasped, appearing offended. "You don't believe me? Why, whatever have I done to give you the impression that I am an irresponsible procrastinator!"

Chloe lifted a finger to her chin, "You know, I haven't the slightest clue. I mean you clearly show up for _every_ class, and do _all_ of your assignments at _least_ a week in advance."

"Careful, Beale. All that sarcasm is bad for your health."

"Please, if it was bad for your heath, you'd be dead by now."

"So true."

The tapping continued once again, a comfortable silence taking over the space. Out of the corner of her eye, Chloe saw her girlfriend get off the bed to retrieve the previously discarded newspaper before returning. The few minutes of silence allowed her to finish the third page of her assignment. However, it wasn't meant to last, she knew that.

"Babe?"

Chloe smirked, prepared for the next question to come out of her mouth. She found herself wishing she could just give up and crawl into bed with her; however, they both knew what that would turn into, and she _needs _to finish this project.

"Damn crosswords." she hears Beca mumble after answering her problem, "Damn fucking crosswords to hell."

**A/N: Hey-o! I got this idea when I was looking at the crossword section of the paper. All of these actually come from that newspaper because they make no sense whatsoever. There were worse ones, trust me. Anyway, I will update my other fics ASAP. Meanwhile, I hope you enjoyed this! Love you awesome nerds!**

**EDIT: Oh my god guys I meant to update that as my story 'Checkerboard' but there's this great thing called Dyslexia and Lack of Sleep that love to converge and make my life miserable. Sorry dudes, it has been fixed .**


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